A Fool's Errand
by halusko
Summary: The Evil Queen never casts her curse, but certain things have a way of happening anyway.
1. Who Emma Is, Part One

**A FOOL'S ERRAND**

The Evil Queen never casts her curse. But certain things have a way of happening anyway.

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Emma, Neal and other recognizable characters are the property of the creators of Once Upon a Time and ABC. This is purely for fun and not profit.

**Author's Note: **I really probably shouldn't be writing this because I gave up on the show after Going Home (and this will be the only time I mention it so I promise that I won't be shoving my opinion down your throat at the start of every chapter). But my point is that as much as I grew to loathe the show I do still like the characters and, well, this idea has been gnawing at me for a while and I think the only way to get rid of it is to just write it out. So here I am. The very nature of this story is AU which should tell you all you need to know, I think, but there are going to be parts, even in its AU-ness, that simply won't fit with canon. I'm mentioning this only because this might not be the story for you if you like your canon straight up. But if you decide to continue on then thank you and I hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>WHO EMMA IS (ACCORDING TO<strong> **THINGS LIKE BIRTHDAYS AND THE MEN IN HER LIFE)**

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><p><em>"Emma is perfect," according to her father.<em>

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><p>There exists a certain belief that a man does not feel like a father until the exact moment his newborn child is placed in his arms for the very first time. This may be true for some men. It may even be true for most men. But it was decidedly untrue for Prince Charming.<p>

Prince Charming (a term coined, quite affectionately, by his wife) was known to most as King James. However, his given name was David (quite a long tale that most assuredly is not a part of this one), and _David_ had always relished the idea of fatherhood. Not for any superficial reason. Raised a common shepherd, he did not care (very much) about someone to carry on the family name. And he cared even less about having an heir to take on his title once he, if you'll pardon the expression, kicked the bucket. He simply longed to create a life born of true love that he could teach about the wonders of the world until they all found their happily ever after.

A son might have been preferable. A daughter was no less disappointing.

Emma arrived earlier than expected, but David's anticipation had been so great that he had finished the nursery nearly a month before the day of her birth. Everything was ready, no one more than David himself. Prepared as he was though, his daughter's arrival was not exactly easy as David hated to see his wife in any sort of pain (though after Snow had assured him that it was well worth it). There had been, thankfully, no other reason to worry and so the new father patiently waited until his wife finally looked up at him and asked with her perfect smile if he would like to hold his daughter.

She was passed carefully into his arms, David cradling her gingerly as if afraid she might break (she was _so_ small). He had once thought that there would never be anyone that he loved more than his beloved Snow, but there she was and David had never been happier to be wrong. Emma was perfect. And it was with startlingly clarity as he gazed down at the life born of true love, who merely yawned and wrapped a tiny hand around his finger, that he realized Snow had been right. They had made the right decision. And he would do _anything_ to protect her from it.

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><p><em>"Emma is a horrible dancer," according to Roland. And, well, everyone.<br>_

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><p>Roland's hands were calloused and rough with the signs of the physical labor that defined the difference of class with the woman he currently danced with. And yet he was bold, confident, and graceful; moving to the beat and leading them elegantly across the expansive ballroom floor. Her own dancing skills were not nearly as polished when compared to his (though once again, given the number of rungs that hung between them in the ladder of society, it seemed that their positions should have been decidedly reversed), but their dance managed to remain professional. And even exquisite. Which was fortunate given the fact that she was most assuredly suffering beneath the critical gaze of their many onlookers. A common event given the fact that eyes tended to follow the queen - to observe, to criticize, to adore – and tonight this was more true than any other time given that she (and more specifically the day of her birth) was the reason behind the grand affair. Boyd, her youngest brother, would correct her phrasing with the words: a celebration. But time had jaded her to the point that she knew, and understood, that most everyone's presence was to uphold appearances and perhaps further their own political agendas. Not because they had any interest in the idea that today was the day she turned twenty-one.<p>

The song ended, the sound of polite clapping echoed throughout the overstuffed chamber, and he bowed before offering a perfect, boyish smile that happened to be his best (and most comforting) feature. It prompted Emma to do the same, easing the tension that her muscles had taken on during their dance. A side effect of her determined effort to not step on his toes, though that distinct possibility had been the reason she chose him to help her lead the crucial first dance. She had few friendships that did not originate or exist due to politics and class, but Roland was both the oldest and one of the few. He had suffered her dancing skills before, enough that Emma knew that he had perfected the art of schooling his wince when her impossible heels would accidentally trod on his leather-clad toes.

The applause ceased and the crowd that had assembled around the dance floor began to break apart as noblemen and duchesses and royalty from distant lands stepped away to sample food, engage in polite conversation, and perhaps dance themselves. Now absolutely still, the signs that Roland did not necessarily belong among the upper class became absurdly apparent. She decided it was the clothing. Having borrowed the suit from Boyd, it was made from the finest material gold could buy and yet it was not a perfect fit. Leo, the only one of three to have inherited their mother's dark hair and pale skin, would have been a better match but he also had that tall, thin build that Roland did not possess. Which left Boyd who, like her, had a penchant for blues and reds. But - with thick brown hair, tender brown eyes, and that boyish smile - Roland still looked absolutely gorgeous. Not that Emma had ever felt _that_ way (though there was a time she thought she had) about Roland (especially not now that he was married and a proud father), but that smile could still spread a warmth from head to toe. Perhaps because she knew it was genuine.

_Now, _it should be noted, that Roland was a good man; he was lucky enough to have _not_ been raised among royalty and the politics that accompanied that world. He knew what was important and embodied - in Emma's opinion – everything a husband and father _should _be. He lived in a small village on the edges of the kingdom where he had built a modest cabin for his wife, the dear Ophelia, settling in a way his father had not by working hard and learning the ins and outs of farming, effectively giving up the nomadic lifestyle of moving from town to town in search of wrongs to avenge. She and her brothers had offered him gold many times, but Roland was a man that was as proud as he was good, and he had never seen any reason to accept. Not even a few short weeks ago when Ophelia gave birth to a beautiful girl that happened to be the reason Roland was alone here tonight.

He was a good man, but perhaps his most frustrating characteristic was his penchant for addressing things directly rather than delicately, refusing to avoid sensitive topics like any member of the upper class would have the good graces to do (who would instead wait to gossip behind backs when the person in question had turned away). It would lead to a shift in her features, her smile becoming nothing more than the show that was expected of her.

"Leo told me about the summit," said Roland.

Unlike their dance, his tone was soft and the broaching of the topic positively clumsy, the mere gesture of doing so reaching near reckless proportions, catching Emma off guard in the very place and time she shouldn't be. She would later decide that his current audacity was actually mere child's play when compared to the other surprising events that would take place later that night, but that did not change the fact that he had crossed an unspoken line.

Still. She considered how to respond.

Ultimately she chose not to. There were enough rumors flooding the party, she had no reason to add truth to them.

But the truth was this: Her kingdom was suffering a financial burden that had been carried over from the separate reigns of both King George and Queen Regina, while there was also increased pressure to involve her armies in the conflicts that threatened the outbreak of wars in the neighboring kingdoms. And then there was the fact that people, quite naturally, worried about the abilities of such a young queen.

Emma did too.

"He also told me of the advisers' recommendations," he murmured. "I do hope you are not concerning yourself with such matters currently. Not on such a joyous occasion."

"I'm not," she insisted after a long, tense moment. A practiced smile was sparred for the Lord of Blorenge as they made their way from the dance floor, but it was no more sincere than her words. And those had not been enough to fool Roland. He gave her a knowing look and so she relented: "What gave me away?"

He made a vague gesture to a spot just above the bridge of his pointed nose. "When you think of marriage a wrinkle forms between your eyes." The very fact that she had any tell at all was troubling news. But he pressed on causing Emma to silently curse both of her very meddlesome brothers: "You know what your parents would have wished for you. They'd wish you to marry for love. And only love."

"I may not have that luxury," she murmured, tone practical and neglecting the obvious statement of why she did not have it, "you understand how it is. I have very specific responsibilities. And the current state of things may force my hand."

She greeted a foreign diplomat (who she could not recall ever meeting) with a nod of her head as she uttered the words in a quiet tone. There was no sadness as she spoke them. She had accepted long ago that love, while rich in her family, was not meant for her future. Not romantically. Not in the 'I cannot live without you' way her parents had possessed and obviously wished for her and her brothers. And, considering how their story ended, she didn't think she wanted it.

"Were those words just spoken by the girl who refuses to blindly accept even the idea of fate?" questioned Roland, leaving Emma to wonder if he had purposefully misinterpreted her point. Still, he continued: "You cannot just accept the experiment of a fairy."

The results of that incident were not the reasons behind her current contemplation of the council's recommendations. It was, perhaps, a reason that they were easier to accept but even then, had things been different, and the pixie dust had reached a conclusive end, Emma could not imagine changing her mind. Not when she wished to preserve the future of her kingdom.

Not that it mattered. Pixie dust was never wrong.

That was a fact.

And so was this: That, on this day four years ago – in yet another attempt by her parents to shift her poor opinion of her birthday – it had been discovered that she did not have a soulmate. Or, considering that they had traveled no further than her old nursery before the magic ceased moving, she was destined to spend the rest of her days with one of her stuffed animals. She was not bothered by it. That was also a fact. The truth was that Emma had never possessed a particularly romantic nature and her views on love had only hardened when her father had died in his bed with – of all the possible ailments in the world – nothing more than a broken heart.

Another – albeit completely unrelated – fact was that it was difficult to move without brushing shoulders with someone of societal importance. And certainly no one she actually wished to stop and converse with. It was even more difficult to pick out the people – such as her brothers or Alexandra – whose company she would actually find more enjoyable. Her rather morose thoughts, however, were interrupted by someone who fell between those two categories; an older man with a thick accent offering a quick apology when he nearly got snagged on the skirt of her ornate dress.

"Oh, hello, Emma," said the man with forced familiarity. He nodded to Roland, "hello." His head was inclined, eyes to the floor, suddenly submissive as though he was not quite certain of whether or not he should be bowing or doing something else entirely.

"This is Roland, Geppetto," Emma told him, "Robin Hood's son." Recognition lit up his eyes as he and Roland's father would have served on the old council together.

"Good man, your father," said Geppetto heartily, offering his hand to shake while Roland gave a polite word of gratitude. The graying man directed his next statement at Emma: "And happy birthday, dear girl."

"Thank you." She canted her head, concern finding her features as she looked over his thin form. It had been quite some time since she had last seen him. "I hope you're well."

His smile faltered. Such questions had caused similar reactions in Geppetto for as long as Emma could remember. "As well as can be expected."

The answer, too, was a standard one, and Emma expected him to dutifully mourn the loss of his son until his own death for she knew that Geppetto was the type of man that would never relinquish hope that his precious Pinocchio would someday return to him. And no one had the heart to point out that, when a twelve year old disappears into the depths of the forest alone it is always unlikely they will be found at all. Let alone alive.

"Have hope," she murmured because she was one of those that could not bring herself to shatter his illusions. And then, because she had not yet had the chance to properly search the crowd, she asked: "Have you seen my brothers?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Alright then," she said, "please try to enjoy yourself. And do try the shrimp. Our chef seemed quite pleased with that particular offering this evening."

"All the best, Emma."

Emma smiled politely, "and you."

He disappeared into the crowd after that, and Roland, who had politely remained silent after his introduction, reminded her of his presence by, unfortunately, returning to the previous topic of conversation. "You failed to answer my question."

She answered swiftly: "You didn't ask one."

"I did," he insisted, "I asked..." Roland, however, did not get the opportunity to repeat his inquiry as a tall, blond-haired girl had suddenly appeared, wrapping her in a tight hug. Emma laughed in surprise and relief as she greeted Alexandra warmly.

She turned serious as she pulled back; "Have you seen my brothers?"

Alexandra shook her head and Roland stepped in to comment. "Tell Emma she should wait for love."

"Wait for love, Emma," she echoed promptly, almost automatically, before offering her most mischievous smile, "unless, of course, he's devilishly handsome. Is he devilishly handsome?"

"There is no he." Emma corrected with much exasperation.

That comment couldn't even be processed before Roland chimed in: "You're willing to base a life-long commitment on whether the other person is good looking or not?" Alexandra's blue eyes grew impossibly wide, giving Emma the distinct impression that the two were having slightly different conversations. Roland was, perhaps, more of a gentleman than Alexandra was princess.

"It's a factor," she said dryly before addressing Emma: "So the rumors _are_ true then?"

The conversation had brought them to the buffet table that was piled high with several delectable dishes and made for a distracted reply. She hadn't eaten, though not for lack of trying, all day. "It depends on the rumor."

Quite suddenly Alexandra looked like she was ready to burst. "That you're announcing your engagement." A beat. "Tonight."

"So it is true?" Emma stiffened as the sound of a fourth voice joined them. It belonged to a petite brunette with delicate features that could easily be mistaken for that of a fairy. Her name was Sophia – the daughter of Aurora and Philip – and she happened to be the last person that Emma would want to join this particular conversation. Or any other.

"No," Emma said firmly to Alexandra before nodding her head at Sophia, "and no one."

"Though she is considering the idea," prompted Roland, somewhat subdued. He knew both Sophia and Alexandra from previous events but he had never quite taken with Sophia. Few people did. Her response, the opposite of what he was clearly hoping for, might have explained why.

"Good."

This was not a conversation Emma wanted to be a part of, and so she made an attempt to change the subject. "Have you seen Leo? Or Boyd?" They had promised they wouldn't allow her to be cornered like this.

"Pardon?" Roland demanded (or nearly given his station) of the Princess, once again causing Emma's question, as well as her growing discomfort, to be ignored.

"Well how else do you expect her to get married?"

"Sophia," interjected Alexandra softly, but the other girl continued, never having been very good at knowing when to let things drop. Like Roland. Whose position as her oldest and dearest friend was currently being reexamined.

"She's just … Emma," she started and the young queen realized that she might have picked a poor time to give into the temptation known as stuffed mushrooms. "She's not the type of girl your court." And then, as an afterthought; "No offense, of course."

Emma smiled tightly. "Of course."

"But Emma has had many suitors," said Roland.

"Yes. Because she's pretty," noted Sophia, "and possesses a rather important title."

"Those sorts of things very rarely have anything to do with love," added Alexandra in obvious effort to salvage a situation she knew was becoming a carriage-wreck. Sophia failed to notice.

She laughed harshly and made a dry correction: "It has nothing to do with it. Emma is far too powerful, far too distant, far too cynical, and far too hard for love to ever be a factor."

And, after that rather harsh view of her character, Emma decided that she was going to kill her brothers. And Roland for continuing to to engage in this ridiculous conversation. Point: "I know plenty of men that would gladly -"

Sophia was quick to interject; "Commoners." The word held a certain amount of distaste and Emma regretted the fact that she had just taken another bite. She chewed faster. "Men of our station-"

"Enough," said Emma once she had finally swallowed. The word was said firmly - a practiced tone she often used to quiet unruly crowds. She would have added an apologetic look, throwing it in the direction of Roland but she was angry with him as well. And he really should have known better than to engage with Sophia about such things. "This is no longer a topic for discussion. Now if you'll excuse me, I really should find my brothers."


	2. Who Emma Is, Part Two

**Disclaimer: **Emma, Neal, and other recognizable characters are the property of Once Upon a Time and ABC. This is purely for fun and not profit.

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><p><strong>WHO EMMA IS (ACCORDING TO THINGS LIKE BIRTHDAYS AND THE MEN IN HER LIFE)<strong>

_"Emma is strong," according to Leopold_

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><p>Emma would not easily find her brothers as the answer to the question of where they were happened to be an unexpected place and, at the point she had just asked, it also happened to be a time when they were not together.<p>

Leo's night, with the aid of a pretty duchess, had taken him to the courtyard. He hated these parties just as much as his older sister (and didn't like them nearly enough according to his younger brother). He and his companion (whose name he should likely try to learn before the night was through) had settled behind the rose bushes, his hand rather inappropriately stroking up a smooth thigh that was hidden beneath the type of heavy dress girls were prone to wearing to these sorts of things. He assumed she was obviously the type that enjoyed a man with a title. It certainly couldn't have been his looks as he was both tall and thin, never quite outgrowing that lanky and awkward stage despite his mother's promise that he would. Leo however, who had taken to pushing the boundaries of his power in the wake of his parents death, couldn't bring himself to care what her reasons happened to be seeing as she didn't seem to have any sort of problem with the current place of his hand. This attitude from Leo was a shame for there had been a time when his personality, fun and playful and not at all serious, had made him the life of the party. But now, privately, the young prince wondered about things like if he would have time to fully remove her dress before he and Boyd were expected to present Emma with her gifts.

There really wasn't.

Leo, however, was almost ready to risk it before he remembered something incredibly important. It had little to do with the number of guests that could easily stumble upon him in such an inappropriate position (he really didn't care), but more to do with something that he had nearly forgotten had been asked of him.

It was understandable that he had forgotten (and he couldn't say what made him think of it now, other than the fact that his partner wasn't the best at kissing and that allowed his mind to wander more than a man's in his position probably should). It was a promise made nearly three years before, just a week before his father had died. He had been handed a letter by the frail man and was told, with a strength he hadn't seen from the former king in months, to give it to Emma on her twenty-first birthday. Not a day before. And not a day after. While not particularly pleased with his father at the time (and he couldn't say that opinion had changed since), the spark had reminded him so much of the man he had once thought he knew that he took the letter and nodded his head, promising that he would do as he asked. The sealed parchment was then taken to his room and hidden in one of his drawers where he promptly forgot about it.

Until now.

It said a lot about his priorities that, while he would make out with a pretty girl during a party filled with all sorts of important people, he would also untangle himself from the very same girl to go retrieve a letter that could probably just as easily be given to his sister after the ball. But by the time the last guest left it would be well after midnight and his father had been quite adamant that she receive it _on_ her birthday.

More than anything Emma deserved, for once, a birthday that could actually be considered a happy occasion. And while he knew that her opinion of their father was just as poor as his, it was difficult to forget his father's intensity, and he would be remiss to risk what could be the difference between a mediocre day and a pleasant one.

His companion, looking delightfully disheveled with mussed hair and plump lips red swollen from his kisses, did not look pleased when he announced that he would have to cut their activities short. And, the look of distaste on the woman's face as he explained that it was for the birthday girl, told him that she was most certainly not here because she liked (or even knew) his sister.

There was nothing Leo cared more about than his brother and sister and, despite being the strongest person he knew (that had had more thrust upon her than any person should have at her young age) he was remarkably protective of his older sister. So it explained why, after easily finding the letter (which had been exactly where he left it), that he hesitated only a moment before breaking the seal. If only to ensure that their father's words would not ruin her mediocre day.

And it was a good thing he did because it wasn't long before he realized that he and Boyd would only have a matter of hours (at best) to stop something truly catastrophic that would, at the very least, turn this into Emma's worst birthday to date.

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><p><em>Age Eight (in which Emma goes on an adventure)<em>

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><p>She had cried and screamed and kicked and stomped on her stupid dress and <em>still <em>the ball had not been canceled. It was difficult to fathom this idea that someday she would rule the entire kingdom and yet she did not have a say in how she celebrated her birthday. Or even what she got to wear to said ball in honor of said birthday. And so Emma did what any soon-to-be eight year old did when she did not get her way – she ran away.

Though, to be fair, this was not an entirely accurate portrayal of her intent. It was not that she had planned to run away from home forever and ever. She was simply running away from the ball. When it was over she would return and then if her absence just so happened to encourage her parents to listen when she said she did not want to do something then so be it. This was a lesson they clearly needed to learn.

Leaving the castle was not an easy task. Boyd was three and stupid and therefore did not understand anything but Leo was _five_, knew precisely when Emma was doing something she shouldn't be, and took great pleasure in getting his sister in trouble. That is, of course, unless she bribed him or gave into his many unreasonable demands. Today he had only one – he wanted to come with her and so taking him with her she was forced to do.

They would not, however, be fighting a dragon. That had been Leopold's rather excited declaration when he was informed of her plans. Because he was a boy and boys liked stupid things like that. This was another reason to be mad at her mother and father – they had not had enough sense to have a girl. Or not even a girl for, as uninterested as Emma was in slaying dragons and sword-fighting, she was even less interested in dresses and dancing. What they should have had instead she had not yet decided but perhaps she would figure that out in her explorations.

But first they had to get past the knights. This was very difficult. Their job was to keep intruders out and _them _in. And, unlike Leo, they did not accept bribes.

It was decided that they would need a distraction.

The distraction was Boyd, who they claimed had found his way to the roof on the north tower. They said this quite frantically even though they knew it was wrong to lie.

They also weren't supposed to take a horse (even if Athena was _her _horse) without adult supervision, but they did that too.

Emma hadn't quite figured out what she would do if she made it past the knights undetected. While Leo had very grand (and dangerous) plans for their adventure, she did not. She simply wanted to go someplace where she would not have to wear shoes that made her toes pinch or dance with people she did not know on her birthday. Maybe a village. No kid in the village (not that she had met any) ever had balls for their birthday. They did not have to dance or wear ridiculously uncomfortable dresses and they probably got to invite whoever they wanted to their party. If they wanted they probably didn't even have to have one, at all. Yes, a visit to the village would be quite nice.

They would not get there, however. Not five minutes into their journey did Athena skid to a halt for in the middle of the path stood a man with his arms crossed over his chest and a bemused expression on his face. This man was her father.

They were promptly taken back to the castle where a ball was held in her honor and she had an absolutely awful time and did not enjoy her birthday at all.

Though, a week later, when her mother had finally stopped setting her features in a firm line whenever she entered the room, her father did take her to the not-so nearest village on horseback where they wore trousers, had lunch in a pub, bought vegetables they had picked themselves, and where they were not recognized. Not even once. _That_ had been her very favorite day. It had also happened to be the day she met Roland. But that was a different story altogether.

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><p><em>"Emma is full of potential," according to Boyd.<em>

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><p>Leo's assumption that they could actually stop certain events from happening that night was incredibly false (and more on that later), but it would not be because of any difficulties he had locating his younger brother who was, quite surprisingly, missing in action.<p>

The word surprisingly was used due to the fact that, unlike his older siblings, Boyd was far more prone to being in the places expected of him which, tonight, would have been the ballroom. But Boyd also happened to be incredibly misunderstood by both his brother and sister. One example was, of course, the likely assumption that Roland had been influenced by Leopold to discourage Emma's contemplation of an arranged marriage. That had, in fact, been Boyd's influence. But due to their belief that their youngest sibling was something of a goody two-shoes (which, to be fair, sometimes he was) that cared more for the future of the kingdom (which did concern him) than he did for his family (which was, by the way, the entirely false part of that statement) he was never suspected.

The truth was Boyd did not want his sister to marry. For if she married than the leadership of their kingdom would surely be passed to an outsider who would not care for the state of their people as much as he knew his sister did. Emma was quite capable of ruling on her own and, despite the advisers' rather poor assessment of the current state of things, his sister had been doing a rather remarkable (if slow) job of pulling everyone out of the recession that had blanketed the land during George and Regina's separate reigns. She had the potential to see it through to a successful end, but marrying prematurely would surely regulate her to a position that she seemed to think she deserved.

And for that reason she would do it.

Boyd, however, refused to consider it.

Which was why he was in the kitchens standing in front of five very different men while a rather disgruntled part of the staff glared at the oven they were unfortunately blocking. Tonight, he had decided, Emma would fall in love. And these were the men that he had decided were either suitable or compatible (unfortunately he could not find a man that embodied both) for her. It was difficult to narrow it down any further because his sister, unlike most girls, had never been very clear about what she looked for in a man. But he had found a shepherd (like their father), a knight (that respected royalty but did not necessarily covet the position), a minstrel (who had traveled far and wide – something Emma had always, at least it seemed, wished to do), a prince (who would inherit his own kingdom regardless of what happened here tonight and so surely did not _need_ theirs), and another prince (Sophia's brother - who was far too young for Emma, but had overheard him talking to the knight and so insisted that he be involved if he did not wish for the plan to be shouted from the rooftops).

It was as he was telling the group that Emma enjoyed, more than anything it sometimes seemed, food that Leopold finally stumbled upon him, tugging him in a secluded direction before he could finish telling them how else they could successfully win Emma's heart. Boyd, of course, moved to protest (not only was he in the middle of something important, but it was improper for men of their station to manhandle each other in such a way in front of company), but Leo was quicker, shoving a worn piece of parchment into his hands. It only took him a moment to recognize his father's handwriting and (because he did not share Emma and Leo's poor opinion of his parents) he eagerly read what his father had to say even if the letter was not necessarily addressed to him (not that he had really noticed). And it was a good thing too because as he read he realized that he and his brother did not have a moment to waste.

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><p><em>Age Sixteen (in which Roland now has a wife)<em>

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><p>She met Ophelia on her sixteenth birthday when Roland introduced her as his wife. Emma smiled, of course, congratulating them both heartily and asking them about their courtship and the wedding and when they planned to have children. All the things she was supposed to ask, though inwardly she fumed. She was angry that, even if he claimed it was a spontaneous sort of thing (they met and then eloped not soon after), he hadn't even bothered to invite her or tell it about it immediately after the fact. Marriage was a special sort of news that should be shared immediately. Especially with friends. He had, however, waited a whole stupid month.<p>

Emma also hated how he would turn to whisper jokes in his new wife's ear the way he used to joke with her and that he asked Ophelia to dance at every new song and not her once (it did not matter that she did not like to dance).

It did not help that Ophelia was positively beautiful. A natural beauty that did not require fancy dresses and shoes that pinched and a ridiculous hairstyle that made her head feel heavy. Something that was intensified by a natural grace that Emma would never possess for not once when they danced did Ophelia step on her husband's toes. Her laugh was melodic, her disposition sunny, and her demeanor kind and welcoming. Emma was a princess, the party was in her honor, and yet it felt like she was the one standing in Ophelia's shadow (not that Ophelia wasn't without her flaws - Emma simply wasn't in a place where she could see them. Most especially during their first meeting).

And then Emma, on her way to ask Roland if he would help her steal Lady Hannah's hat as was a tradition at these sorts of things, caught them kissing in the gardens. Her stomach flipped and there was a pain in her chest that she couldn't quite explain. Tears pooled in her eyes and she threw her tiara on the ground before she ran all the way to her room where her mother joined her soon after.

"Do you think, Emma," her mother had started when Emma told her that she didn't like Ophelia, "that it's more you don't like seeing Roland with Ophelia."

That, she had thought, was a rather absurd idea. "No."

Her mother smiled knowingly and once more Emma became annoyed. "It has nothing to do with _that_."

Her mother, however, would not be swayed and she gave a long talk, reminding Emma that she was still young and that she would find her perfect match and something about how it wouldn't always hurt. She seemed, Emma thought, quite excited to be having this discussion and so she listened and nodded in all the right places and tried to act interested. But somewhere between her mother's story about how she met father (which Emma had heard a dozen times at least) when she had least expected to find _anyone_ and her belief that things work out the way they're supposed to did Emma realize that it really did have _nothing_ to do with _that._

Emma did not love Roland.

Nor, she supposed, did she really hate Ophelia.

But she did, Emma had realized, miss Roland. Because he was, to be truthful, one of her only _true _friends. There was, of course, Leo and Boyd, but they were her brothers. And then there was Alexandra but she happened to like everything about being a princess while Emma had come to loathe certain parts of it. Roland, while not any sort of royalty, relished in making fun of those parts and all while he put up with her dreadful dancing skills. And so, while she would later learn that it wasn't exactly the case, it had quite suddenly felt like she had lost her best friend.

Her title and living in the castle made her feel so secluded sometimes. Roland had thought, he would later claim, that it seemed it should be the sort of thing shared in person. Most especially because it had happened so quickly. He wanted Emma to see Ophelia and get to know her so that she wouldn't worry that he had rushed into something he wasn't ready for. But really it had made Emma feel like she wasn't special enough to find and be told such things. Everyone always assumed that she was too busy or wouldn't care because she had more important things to contend with. But she cared about friends and she wanted to share in things like joyous news. Yet as she aged and her responsibilities grew that seclusion only widened and now, rather than simply the fear of sharing Roland, she feared losing him completely. To nothing more than the test of time.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_Emma is a horrible dancer," according to Roland, "because she's afraid to let people close."_

* * *

><p>The plan, according to Boyd, had been to distract Emma long enough so that she couldn't make any ridiculous announcements while he carried out his (somewhat ridiculous) plan. Normally, Roland didn't agree with Boyd's assessments of situations but he had made a convincing argument that only became more so as he conversed with some of the people that called themselves Emma's friends.<p>

It might have helped that he was wearing Boyd's suit and therefore felt a bit like the younger man.

Not that he had been successful and he realized rather quickly that, caught up in Boyd's ridiculous plan as he'd become, he had lost Emma. And that he probably needed to apologize. For really, despite being a friend, it was hardly his place to meddle in her affairs. Particularly when those affairs were of a political nature.

He worried about her though. And this assumption that she seemed to have that the happiness of others came at the expense of her own.

She wasn't hard to spot. The crowd tended to part around her, leaving an unnatural space in a ballroom that was, if the rising temperature was any indication, filled to the brim. Emma always complained that it often felt like the crowds were pressing in on her, suffocating her. Judging her. Perhaps they were. But from his viewpoint they only ever seemed to admire her. And even then, without the unnatural space, there was also the matter of _her._ Like always, she dressed as simply as the event would allow, donning a red dress with thin straps that frilled only around her chest. She wore it well and he imagined, if she weren't so obviously burdened, she would be absolutely breathtaking.

But he found her, unsurprisingly, by the buffet table. And at least there was something here that she enjoyed. "No sign of your brothers?"

"No," she said, quite morosely and then pointedly, "you really should stop listening to Leo."

"It was Boyd actually."

That caught her off guard. "Really?" He nodded and she seemed almost pleased. Emma knew that Boyd cared for her. Of course she did. But of her two brothers it was Boyd that was the least likely to engage in schemes and ridiculous planning and so she likely saw this as something akin to character growth.

"He's found suitors for you. And plans for you to fall in love." The plan sounded even more ridiculous when he said it out loud.

It, too, erased any signs of pleasure that Emma had previously shown. "Really?" she echoed, and her tone was harder this time.

Roland nodded again. "He worked very hard on finding someone suitable for you. Or compatible. He couldn't find both."

"Well, such a man wouldn't exist would he?"

It was said practically when really, Roland thought she should be sad about such a belief. Or bitter even. But he realized that maybe his assumptions _were_ wrong. It wasn't that Emma had come to accept the fact that she had no perfect match, but that she truly did not want one. Because she was afraid to find someone. Because she had seen how love had destroyed her parents and she didn't want to risk any sort of vulnerability.

"A perfect match is, generally, a hard thing to come by," agreed Roland with a pointed edge. "I can only imagine how utterly dull things with Ophelia would be if she and I were perfectly suited to the other."

He could see Emma frown in a way that said she didn't necessarily understand. And he imagined that a person who had never known true love wouldn't. "Aren't you though?"

"Yes. And no. It depends on the subject at hand. But we've learned to carry on anyway because we are stronger together." He was reluctant to push the boundaries in the way he had earlier that evening but this was important. Roland wished Emma to be happy. And maybe she would not find that with love, but she most certainly would not find it by attaching herself to someone she did not love. "There is no reason to fear love."

She scoffed. He had expected as much. He could have boasted that he had predicted her response correctly as well. That is if certain things hadn't happened just then, interrupting her chance to speak and his train of thought.

All of these things, it seemed, happened all at once. Or, at least, in such rapid succession that it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. The first, was a loud crack that was, quite unexpectedly, accompanied by a puff of smoke. A sign of magic. People whispered, some frantically, but there was no panic. Not yet. Just confusion. For a moment, Roland toyed with the idea that this was simply a part of the evening's entertainment and he had simply not been let in on the secret. But then the smoke cleared. Women screamed, men shouted, knights attempted to fight their way through the frantic crowd, and Roland recognized a face he had never met. His father had warned him though through his countless stories.

"Rumpelstiltskin," he told Emma. Or tried to. But he found he didn't have a voice. And he realized that the rest of the room had fallen silent too. He knew what Boyd and Leo would expect of him and that was to remove Emma, no matter how much she protested, from the hall. His hand came to grip her elbow, ready to tug. But, quite unfortunately, he found that she and Rumpelstiltskin had already locked eyes.

He would not, it seemed, be able to escort her from the ballroom unnoticed.


	3. Who Emma Is, Part Three

**Disclaimer: **Emma, Neal and other recognizable characters are the property of the creators of Once Upon a Time and ABC. This is purely for fun and not profit.

* * *

><p><strong>WHO EMMA IS (ACCORDING TO<strong> **THINGS LIKE BIRTHDAYS AND THE MEN IN HER LIFE)**

_Age 17 (The Pixie Dust Incident)_

* * *

><p>Her parents had gotten their daughter a good many wonderful gifts in their time. There had been her baby blanket when she was born and her horse, Athena, when she was six. There had been the more extravagant such as jewels and dresses and titles. And then there had been the strange such as the wardrobe that still, to this very day, sat in her old nursery.<p>

The gift itself, carved by Geppetto from one of the finest trees found in the Enchanted Forest, was positively lovely with its smooth wood and ornate carvings. They had, however, never used it for, strangely enough as her father exclaimed that it was big enough for her to climb inside (even when you were a big girl new to the age of five) the doors had become warped (or something equally as tragic given how recently it had been carved) and they had never been able to get them open. Emma had insisted they keep it for, as useless as it was, the wardrobe was still pretty to look at. Her parents, however, had been terribly disappointed.

That somewhat anti-climatic gift would not be the strangest that she would ever receive from them. Nor would it be the worst. That title would be reserved for her seventeenth birthday when a very special guest was invited to the castle: The Blue Fairy.

Emma smiled dutifully as they were introduced and listened carefully as her parents explained why they had invited her. At the end her mouth fell open because it was surely the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard.

"What?" she had exclaimed.

Her mother smiled proudly. "Your soulmate, dear. Blue has agreed to help you find him."

Emma thought this was a ridiculous plan and she looked to her father for support because surely he would be on her side in this. "Papa!" But he was wearing that look that said he would stand with his wife no matter how silly he thought she was being and Emma knew that he would not rescue her from this.

Boyd and Leo stood behind her and while they had yet to utter a word it was quite clear that they were trying to suppress their laughter.

No one, it seemed, would be on her side in this. And then, quite suddenly, a horrible thought occurred to her. "You plan to marry me off."

Finally, her father spoke. "Absolutely not." And Emma took comfort in the fact that he seemed adamant about this.

Her mother stepped forward then, cradling her face between her hands as she smiled gently. "Oh, sweetheart, we just want to do everything in our power to make sure you're happy and that you get to experience everything this wonderful world has to offer."

Emma stared blankly. "But I am happy."

Her mother's only response was to smile sadly.

* * *

><p><em>"Emma is a Means to an End," according to Rumpelstiltskin.<em>

* * *

><p>Roland was, of course, correct. Emma would not be leaving (and that is assuming that she would even allow herself to be taken when it could leave so many of her subjects at the mercy of the Dark One – which she wouldn't). It also so happened that, despite their efforts, Leopold and Boyd were too late. Mostly because trouble had already (and quite dramatically) arrived in the grand ballroom.<p>

Trouble, as Roland had correctly pointed out, came in the form of Rumpelstiltskin.

And Rumpelstiltskin rather liked chaos. But more specifically he reveled in the fear that was known to follow his appearance. And by that he meant his rather dramatic arrivals – but his physical appearance was known to turn quite a few heads as well. His build was short for a man (though many would claim that was not what he was), and lanky which -when combined with the high and warble patterns of his speech, forming words that were not gentle or melodic like a bird, but mocking and cruel like the fire a dragon breathed – made for a menacing creature indeed. An image not helped, perhaps, by the repeated dragon-like quality of his skin. It was scale-like and rough, shimmering between green and gold. He was cool to the touch, his fingers long and slimy with jagged nails that looked like they might be as black and rotten as his heart must obviously be. He was physically what most would deem ugly, but even then these were not the qualities of his appearance that inspired fear. Instead there was the fine leather he wore that was perfectly crafted to fit his form and the way in which, with just a snap of his fingers, the voices were taken from those whose wits had not already caught up to them, all fitting together to scream power: the sort that demanded you tread carefully and pay heed. It took quite some time for Rumpelstiltskin to gain this sort of respect. And even then it had not been earned, but taken (another story that was also most assuredly not this one).

It had been quite some time since he had the luxury of enjoying this sort of chaos. Nearly twenty-two very boring years locked away in his dark castle. But he had promised to be a good little Dark One (which he had been – for the most part), and considering what he was about to get, the solitude had been worth every boring second.

Still. The Queen who he was about to claim as his own (quite fairly according to the deal made with her poor departed parents) was only a means to an end. But she would get him what he so desired. Despite his promise to stay away, he had still watched and he knew he had chosen correctly. She would be easily manipulated. What she lacked in leadership and confidence was made up in love and loyalty. And so, if anything, she would succeed out of fear and determination.

And now, after three centuries there was only one more year to go and Rumpelstiltskin let out a mad giggle as he locked eyes with the Queen over the hall he had forced into silence.

* * *

><p><em>"Emma is strong," according to Leopold, "but she deserves better."<em>

* * *

><p>Boyd's question ("What do we do?") was immediately interrupted by the sound of the chaos that had (briefly) followed Rumpelstiltskin's arrival signaling that they were indeed too late. Not that Leo had expected to stop the infamous Dark One from entering the castle had he so desired, but he had been hoping for a bit more time to plan. They had managed a general outline, of course, cobbled together as they rushed up three flights of stairs (the two knights that had originally been trailing the princes had been knocked out in their attempts to stop them). It was far from ideal, but given the alternative Leo decided that it was the best they were going to get. Even when there was no time to tune the edges.<p>

The kitchen was closer to the dungeons than it was to the entrance hall, and therefore even farther from the grand ballroom than nearly any other room in the castle. Three flights of stairs stood between where they started and where they wished to end (and this would not be the longest or fastest Leo would have to climb that evening so it was lucky he had long legs). This seemed, quite suddenly, like a rather poor layout. Particularly for their staff, who had to endure the trek from the kitchens to the ballroom in order to deliver the fine meal they had prepared that evening. But that was, he realized, completely beside the point.

The point was this: They were in a rush and Leo could not help but curse himself for heeding to the insane specifics of his father's final wish. And then he cursed his father for not just telling him about this then.

What was ahead would not break his sister. But it seemed unfair that she would have to endure it at all. Even when, according to their father, it was the lesser of two evils. Because Emma did not deserve to suffer their parents' mistakes.

* * *

><p><em>"Emma is full of potential," according to Boyd, "but she lacks faith in herself."<em>

* * *

><p>Their plan was rudimentary at best. If they had their wish (or if Leo had maybe remembered the letter a bit sooner) then they would have had time to head off Rumpelstiltskin before Emma could ever learn of the deal he planned to collect on. The sounds (that had already ceased, which was either very good news or very bad news) told them that saving Emma from the contents of the letter would not happen. But there was still time to carry out part two which was, quite naturally, the typical sacrifice where they offered themselves in her place. Something any <em>good<em> brother would do.

It would have been preferable to do so before Emma learned of Rumpelstiltskin's arrival because Emma was a good as sister as they were brothers and she would not allow such a sacrifice to occur without a fight of her own. But she couldn't do this.

Now, there were many things Emma could do. There were even more that she w_ould_ do. Including _this._ But _this _was the type of thing that required confidence and someone to have faith in themselves; Emma had yet to make a decision without second-guessing if it was the right one. No, for _this_, she would need to be ruthless. And that was not, quite thankfully, the type of leader Emma was.

* * *

><p><em>"Emma is a means to an end," according to Rumpelstiltskin, "And she was never meant for this life."<em>

* * *

><p>The heels of his knee high boots – made from the finest leather gold could buy – clicked mockingly against the silence he had created, his grin ringing with a sort of glee as he came to stand by the queen's side. Even the air, stuffy and warm in the overcrowded ballroom, seemed to radiate and spark with his power, yet there were some that did not waver or tremble beneath the unspoken threats that accompanied his presence. Knights attempted to gather, the girl stood tall, exuding a power of her own, gesturing to her soldiers to stand down while still managing to overcome a silent battle with the thief's boy of who would stand between the threat and her sworn protectors. Rumpelstiltskin waited a few moments, once more enjoying the fear but also, this time, basking in the very idea that his power had finally brought him here. And then, finally, he made a deep, sweeping sort of bow, his nose almost brushing the floor before he straightened.<p>

"Your Majesty." If looks could kill Emma would have a power all her own, and even then, had it been anyone else, they surely would have already wavered beneath her glare. "I wish you a very happy birthday. You might, perhaps, be wondering why I'm here considering I have never had the _honor," _and the way he said it made it sound like anything but, "of meeting your acquaintance."

She could do nothing but nod at best (and she chose to simply glare), and while normally Rumpelstiltskin would thrive on the back and forth and his stunning ability to unnerve people with his quick wit and even quicker dismissals of silly inquiries, this would be so much easier if no one dared interrupt. He had waited so long, after all.

"But I knew your parents. Snow White and her Prince Charming. Tragic the events that took them from this world. And from their lovely family. But I played quite the role in their long and oh so adventurous journey to love. Quite the story and it ended when they trapped me with my own quill. You," he pointed to Emma, "were almost her," the next was pointed at little Cinder Ellie's daughter and then nodded because things had, he believed, turned out for the best. And really, this fate had always been meant for Emma. It was made for her, hand-crafted with the most careful attention to detail, and regardless, had it been this or the original plan, she had never been meant for this life. Emma knew, he realized, whether she understood exactly why or even outwardly acknowledged it, that she was out of place. That she was not meant to be _Queen. _It explained her obvious discomfort with the role – no matter how obviously hard she tried to fill it.

His audience, however – while captive – were dreadfully dull and he rather liked the idea of the surprise twist. He grinned manically, accompanying it by an excited giggle and pointed back to Emma.

"And you, Queen Emma, are now mine."

* * *

><p><em>Age Nineteen (Emma is Crowned Queen)<em>

* * *

><p>They did not celebrate her birthday that year. And to be perfectly honest Emma did not notice the date of her coronation until after the fact, but it so happened to occur on the day she turned nineteen. Which was fitting, she supposed, because while Emma would have wished for it to be a quiet affair, that wish was decidedly not taken into account.<p>

It had always been assumed that, someday, she would take the crown. Her parents had never talked about it much, doing the best they could to let her be a child while still protecting her from the dangers the world had to offer, but that was just the way things went. She was the oldest and so she would become Queen. She had just envisioned that it would be her mother and father that would place the crown on her head, proud smiles lining their features before they all celebrated at one of those ridiculous balls she so loathed. But by then she would have seen the world and done all the things that she wished to do and so her life would have been, for a time, her own before she gave it to her people.

The thought that they would die and she would have no choice had never even occurred to her. And so a somber light had been cast over the affair that came just a few short weeks after they buried their father.

She was stoic, shoulders straight and head held high, as she made her vows, promising to uphold the laws of the kingdom, to lead the people fairly and respectively, and to show mercy in the execution of its laws and punishments.

It was the death of the life she had envisioned for herself but she did not cry. She did not complain or bemoan the fact that this had not been what she wanted. She did not joke or steal Lady Hannah's hat when the woman was preoccupied at the ball that followed. The time for childish games and hopes was over. Instead she learned to grow up.

* * *

><p><em>Age Twenty-One (The Deal)<em>

* * *

><p>Time, it seemed, stood still and Emma with it, blood running cold through her veins, causing a chill to sweep over her body. A chill, it seemed, that had spread to the entire room. And, once more, all eyes were on her, though the foolish concerns and idle gossip of before had seemed to have been forgotten and suddenly she found herself longing for it. Just as a warmth – hot and boiling that thawed out the cold that had kept her frozen in place – washed over her in the form of anger.<p>

Rumpelstiltskin's power was something to be feared, this was certain, but Emma's voice was once more found in the fact that the words he spoke were false. And if the imp was at all surprised that she had overcome his magic, he did not show it. Nor did Emma seem to realize that this was what she had done.

"I belong to me."

She was proud to say that the words were steady. Even if the confidence that backed them faltered in the face of his mad giggles that seemed to do nothing more than mock her.

He held up a finger. "Ah. It's a sad truth that you do, in fact, belong to me. As you see, years and years ago. Well, before you could walk or talk or even shed your first tears, your parents all desperate and entirely too confident made a deal. And in that deal they promised you to me."

For all the quarrels Emma had with her parents, she knew for a fact that such a thing would be decidedly out of character for the pair. "I don't believe you," she said, "they would not trade their children."

"Wouldn't they," he started, "if the alternative was a fate far worse." She held his gaze; silent, unable to imagine such a scenario. "Such as a fate that would empty the Enchanted Forest, transporting its citizens to a whole new world, stripping them of their memories and their loved ones, trapping them in time for twenty-eight years only to be saved by a daughter," he nodded at her, "that they never got to raise."

It sounded like a terrible fate indeed, but Emma would not concede so easily. "That is only your word," she said, surprised at her own confidence. For in her mind she was remembering past birthdays, the extravagant gifts they would grant her, and their rush to find her happiness in a way they never pushed her brothers. Maybe they had been driven by guilt. "And my parents are no longer available to verify your story."

Rumpelstiltskin remained unphased.

"Perhaps I should have laid out the terms of the deal in a legally binding contract, signed and dated in triplicate." His head bobbed back and forth, and then, with the snap of his scaly fingers, a roll of parchment appeared in his hands. "Oh, wait, I did."

She knew that she should move forward to scan the contents of the parchment as it was, it seemed, the only thing that could potentially (though doubtfully, as she had heard stories of how thorough the Dark One could be in his deal making) save her from an uncertain fate. Yet she could not bear the thought of seeing her parents' signatures below an agreement to sell her to the devil. In the end she did not have to. Leopold, with Boyd behind him, stepped out from the middle of the crowd (she noted that both appeared out of breath) and he bravely took the parchment. A warmth filled her at the sight of them. Even as late to the party as they were, Emma's earlier unhappiness with them was completely forgotten.

And still, Rumpelstiltskin was unconcerned. "Your brothers, intelligent as they are, could find a loophole in that document and it would not matter. You will do as I say for the mere fact that you cannot afford the price of not obeying the terms of your parents deal."

A feeling of foreboding washed over her and no longer could Emma keep up the false bravado she had adopted thus far. Her next word came out on a croak. "Oh?"

"I'll kill your precious brothers. Your friends. Your subjects. However many it takes until you -"

And Emma knew she had to. Her own life was not worth two. Or three. Or however far Rumpelstiltskin would dare to take it. He had found her weakness for she could live without many things, but to live when Boyd or Leo did not was unfathomable.

Roland, who she had all but forgotten had been standing with her when the chaos took over, must have sensed this for he renewed his attempts to pull her back and out of the hall. Emma shook him off easily. "I will uphold the terms of the deal."

Rumpelstiltskin clapped and grinned gleefully. Boyd and Leopold both stepped forward obviously intending to offer themselves in her place, and Emma was quick to make sure her next words were heard, "_if_ you promise to not harm my brothers or the people of this kingdom."

"Ah, dearie, if you succeed then I shall have no reason to do anything of the sort, now will I?" he said and then, "we'll meet in your nursery at midnight, shall we. Give you time to say your," his features scrunched together oddly, "goodbyes before your journey to a Land Without Magic."

She opened her mouth, intent on asking him what it was that he would have her do in such a place, but she couldn't even get a word out before he was gone.


	4. Jewelry Run

**Disclaimer: **Emma, Neal, and other recognizable characters are the property of the creators of Once Upon a Time and ABC. This is purely for fun and not Profit.

* * *

><p><strong>Jewelry Run<strong>

* * *

><p>For a moment she did nothing. The pointing and the questions started; whispers erupting in the hall just as they always did when a juicy piece of gossip presented itself. Particularly when that piece of gossip involved an appearance by the Dark One. Or the very idea that the epitome of goodness itself, her mother <em>and <em>father, would sell their own child.

Roland attempted to get her attention, and still Emma did not speak. She could not even hear herself think. Though the young queen could not say that mattered. It felt like a frightened horse had kicked her in the gut in its attempts to flee. But even then, if the pain and fear had not reached overwhelming heights, Emma doubted she had any thoughts left to form. Numbness had taken over. _How_ could her parents do this?

But finally, something slogged its way through the fog of shock and pain. A simple one at first. She did not try to imagine what Rumpelstiltskin would have her do (though if she did her mind would have produced all sorts of horrible things). Instead she focused on what she did know. She did not have the luxury of time, but she would not see her kingdom, her home, or her brothers for a year. She did not want to waste the few minutes she had left with them. Particularly in a party that she had possessed no desire to attend in the first place.

She _had never _liked her birthday.

Leo seemed to have the same idea, startling her as he wrapped a hand around her elbow. He addressed Roland first: "Get rid of everyone. Quickly as possible."

Emma thought she should probably say something to Roland for, even as frustrating as he had been earlier in the evening – it all seemed rather trivial now and well, he remained one of her oldest friends. Alexandra too. But she only managed his name before Leo dragged her to the ornate doors of their grand ballroom. Roland gave her a single nod, as if to say he understood, and then his voice echoed throughout the hall, "Your attention please -"

This was all she heard before the doors shut.

She had a lot that she knew she should say, but first she noted an absence and the fact that Leo seemed to have no plans to break his stride to wait for their brother.

"Where's Boyd?"

"Did he not follow us out." He seemed distracted as he led her to the stairwell that paved a direct line to the kitchens and the dungeons. If anything, they should have headed up.

"Leo, we don't have time -"

"Precisely -"

His grip on her remained strong and tight; He had never manhandled her in such a way and while his exterior remained cool, Emma chose to take this as a sign of his fear.

"We should wait for Boyd."

"He knows where to meet you," he countered.

"Even so, I'd like to change out of these clothes."

Honestly, no. She had no desire to do that. But it seemed practical. Emma had no idea what she should expect to find in this world without magic, but she couldn't expect very many similarities to their world.

"_After," _he said.

And still, they continued forward, marching past servants quarters and then the dungeons that housed the prisoners. She would say that Leopold had hatched a clever plan to escape (which she wouldn't call clever at all seeing as her freedom meant his or Boyd's death), but she knew this castle like the back of her own hand. This far beneath the castle they had no exits, secret passages, or trapdoors. Nothing that wouldn't involve a long, hard burrow to the cliff face overlooking the vast ocean. It prevented an easy escape of the prisoners and stopped thieves from taking off with their jewels. And suddenly Emma thought she knew precisely where Leopold meant to take her.

"The vault, Leo? _Really?_"

Surely, that was the last thing they should be doing.

"Don't worry," he insisted and he offered her an easy grin. If he meant it as reassuring then it didn't work.

Because she was worried. They lacked time and what little they did possess should, Emma thought, get spent with both her brothers.

Leo, it seemed, sensed this.

"If he plans to do as he said then he's sending you to a new world. And one without magic, at that," he explained as they approached the most secluded part of the castle. Through a narrow hallway stood a single guard and behind him a door with no handle. Only a member of their family could open it. "I can't say what you should expect to find there, but it seems clear what you won't. Nor, I doubt, will you have your title. You will need something to give you an _advantage_. Something that you can trade for power or information or means to survive."

Leo nodded to the guard who stepped aside and both Emma and Leo stepped forward to press their hands flat against the door and, when whatever the magic that sealed it shut recognized them, it opened. Inside sat piles of gold and silver and ornate jewels – both in the form of currency as well as jewelry and crowns. Here, too, they housed important documents like peace treaties. Emma wondered if somewhere in this vast room her parents would have kept a copy of the deal they had made with Rumpelstiltskin. She wished they would have told her. So she could prepare. Herself and her brothers. They would have to lead the kingdom now.

"Leo, there are things we should discuss -"

"Go on, then." His tone indicated a silent _if you must _and Emma really wished he would stop shoving jewelry into the bag. This could very well be the last time they ever spoke and she actually wanted to do it face to face. No distractions. Even if the things she had to tell him were serious and much too business like.

"Well, you'll have to lead for one," she started, hoping this would get his attention. It didn't. "Or Boyd, if you wish to pass it on, but it'll fall to you first." Leo had never shown any interest in the crown. They both knew this. Just as they both knew that Boyd, despite being the youngest, possessed the natural ability to lead. That, however, would not stop tradition. "And with the kingdom weak as it is, the change will only make it more vulnerable and so while I know it won't be an easy consideration, it would be advisable to heed the council's suggestions."

"You don't have to worry, Emma," he said with a certain inappropriate calmness that was known to infuriate his sister. "We'll be fine."

Indeed, he did not seem worried, at all. Nor angry. In fact, Leo didn't seem to be much of anything. And while she couldn't say this behavior, to treat this as any other event or day, remained entirely out of character, it did raise her suspicions. Something was off. And she realized it also had to do with the fact that Boyd remained absent. Normally, Boyd would insist that they discuss a plan to escape and he would press the issue until no time remained to do things like gather gold for survival in foreign worlds.

"We should find Boyd," she said flatly, her eyes catching a glimpse of the necklace getting stuffed into the bag. "Not that one."

The necklace which, according to their mother, had correctly predicted her gender had also belonged to their grandmother. Meaning it held sentimental value (and therefore something Emma wouldn't sell), but she also doubted its worth. Its monetary value laid in its magic. Which would disappear soon as she arrived in this new world. That would make it a waste to lug around.

He ignored her, moving onto the next set. "I only put in a few gold pieces. This world may not use the same currency and gold will only weigh you down."

Yet he had stuffed a crown in there. And then realization struck Emma. This little trip had nothing to do with potential trade and everything to do with distracting her. The both of them. The stupid, idiotic, wonderful brothers of hers.

"Leo," she chided harshly, backing out of the vault, and setting off at a run. Fast as she could in her stupid dress and heels. She could hear the echo on the stone as Leo followed after her. With some maneuvering she managed to remove her impossible heels, fingers clutching the straps as she pushed herself harder and faster. She knocked decorative ornaments from the walls as she went too. All in the effort to slow Leo down whose long legs would surely allow him to match her determination eventually.

A long way sat between the vault and her old nursery (which, if she thought about it, seemed like an odd place to meet). The castle, however, was her home. She knew short-cuts and points to avoid and even Leo, who was gaining momentum, could not catch up with her thought process when she would suddenly change staircases or turn sharply.

In fact, the only point she truly had to worry about remained the final stretch of corridor; a straight sprint to the closed door at the end. She skidded to a halt when she reached the door. Just _before _Leo. She tugged harshly, meeting a lock, and so pounded on the oak with her palm until he crashed into her, sending Emma to the floor and causing her shoes to fly from her grasp as he successfully managed to pin her.

"You cannot have Boyd do this," she said, and there was a desperate ring to her voice that she couldn't ever remember using before. But surely that was this new plan of theirs. To have Boyd take her place in the deal. Unacceptable. This burden sat on her shoulders alone, placed there by circumstances outside of their control. And even if they had some wiggle room, there still remained a certain responsibility she had as the oldest. She protected them from such things. Not the other way around.

She struggled against him, but Leo did not let up. "Boyd volunteered." That did not make her feel better. "Rumpelstiltskin claims to need someone to go to the Land Without Magic for him. Boyd is just as able as you and he's willing."

"Yet he chose me," she said, "he must have his reasons."

"Don't be so arrogant, Emma," said Leo, "this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that no one would ever do a thing for that _thing _without manipulation and bullying."

Emma didn't agree. "He'll kill Boyd."

Leo did not waver still. "Or he'll allow him to take your place."

"I don't allow it." It was a poor counter-attack but Emma had become desperate in her consideration of the remote possibility that the little thought Leo and Boyd had put into this absurd plan might actually be sound. She would not have them suffer their parents mistakes.

"Just as we don't allow you."

Just then, her fingers managed to grasp the backs of the heels that had fallen from her grasp when Leo sent her flying to the floor. And, before he could realize exactly what she planned to do, she hit him on the back of the head with them. Certainly not enough to knock him out, she didn't have enough leverage, but her audacity did take him by surprise, causing him to lessen his grip. Something Emma immediately took advantage of, scrambling to her feet to pound harshly on the door. Leo quickly followed, attempting to subdue her, but the door swung open and the suddenness caused them both to stumble inside.

Her eyes immediately passed over Rumpelstiltskin in search of her youngest brother only to find that one of her childhood toys, magically enlarged and brought to life, had pinned him to a wall. Any other time, she might have found this absurdly comical but today Emma was in no mood.

"Let him go," she demanded, "_now._"

"Annoying little fellow, isn't he?" But he released the magic holding Boyd, the action of little consequence to Rumpelstiltskin, who walked over to, of all things, an old wardrobe that her parents had gifted to her many birthdays ago. A beautiful gift, even if they had never been able to pry the doors open. Not even the Blue Fairy could manage it, greatly disappointing her parents. Scaly fingers ran delicately down the polished wood. "Finely crafted, isn't it?"

"Not really," Emma countered, "never even got the doors open."

He snapped his fingers and she could only blink as suddenly the wardrobe popped open. "Ah, yes, sorry about that."

"You -"

"Indeed. Couldn't have you escaping, now could I?"

Emma frowned and her brothers looked just as confused. "It's a portal?"

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, seemingly unconcerned. "A fine attempt by your parent to defy me." A finger tapped his head. "They simply forgot that little ability I have. To see the future. Makes things easier now though, doesn't it?"

She would consider her parents' former plans with the wardrobe later. Now she had other concerns."You said you plan to send me to a Land Without Magic?"

"Yes."

Leo stepped forward and Emma glared. "I'll go in her place."

"Persistent aren't they?" he observed. She doubted that he would ever understand this type of familial loyalty and so Emma did not try to explain. "You will have one year to locate my son and return him to this land."

Boyd was the first to voice the thought they all had. Horror seemed to accompany his surprise. "You have a son?"

Rumpelstiltskin ignored this. "If you fail to return in the allotted time then your dear brothers," a hand made a swiping motion across his neck, "get it."

"Why not go yourself?" Leo asked and Emma thought this a fair question. Surely, if he did want to find his son, wouldn't Rumpelstiltskin want to complete the task himself? If only to ensure it got done.

"To a Land Without Magic?" And he laughed, clearly he thought the idea an absurd one. But even that, Emma realized, remained inaccurate. She could see a hint of something else in his eyes: fear.

"But surely there is someone better suited to the task than -"

"It has to be you." said Rumpelstiltskin and, in this, she could tell he would stay adamant. She might have offered Leo a pointed look considering their conversation in the hall. But just because she had been right _then_ that did not mean Rumpelstiltskin's was right _now. _In fact, Emma could not help but think that there existed no person more poorly suited to this task than she. Especially with such high stakes.

"I haven't tracked anything in years. And never a person -"

But apparently Rumpelstiltskin had run out of patience. "It's time to go."

And suddenly cool fingers gripped her elbow, dragging her toward the wardrobe. Panic began to claw at her insides. A year, he had said, she would be gone for a year and she had not even said goodbye to her brothers. And, as if they had all come to the same realization, everyone began to talk at once.

"Leo, Boyd -"

"He won't love you."

"This is pointless -"

"I'll _make_ him love me."

"There are other ways to go about this."

"Enough," said Emma, her voice desperate as her back collided with the wardrobe, a hand settling on her head as Rumpelstiltskin prepared to shove her inside. Silence fell. There had a lot she knew she _should_ say, but really only one thing came to mind. "Take care of each other. I love you both."

Leo and Boyd both started to speak once more, at the same time, their desperate attempt to get heard making it impossible to distinguish what they said. A piece of parchment fluttered into her lap before the wardrobe doors snapped shut.

And then everything went black.


End file.
